WORLD RECORD HOLDER FOR MASTURBATION AND OTHER NURSING HOME SEX STORIES

As promised, I'm presenting my top ten most popular posts as part of my one thousandth post celebration. This post was first published on November 11, 2011. Nine hundred thirty-two people viewed "WORLD RECORD HOLDER FOR MASTURBATION AND OTHER NURSING HOME SEX STORIES". If you're sensitive or offended by a discussion of masturbation, then you might want to skip this one. Keep in mind that Lola wrote this. She can be pretty nasty.

Here's #8 on my top ten hits list:

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Some nasty sexual activity occurs in nursing homes.

At the nursing home where I worked, I truly loved almost all the residents. But the few I didn't love? They were rather gross.

For example, there was the guy whose adult children would bring him porn. He'd watch it on his TV while masturbating. I did not like that man. He always spat on the floor. Finally I said to him, Mr. Masturbating Porn Watching Spitter, please do not spit on the floor. I have to kneel on the floor while I help you wash your nasty cum-covered ding-dong (gosh, I hope my use of ding-dong doesn't offend anyone). At least he stopped spitting when I was there.

We didn't close the doors in the nursing home because we had to keep an eye on everyone and make sure they hadn't fallen on the floor. Even at night the doors were closed only partway. We did not have cameras to help us watch for accidents, or to make our own porn films of the obvious masturbators.

There was this guy who obviously loved it that his door was open. His job before infirmity caught up with him must have been Flasher at a local elementary school. The kids have to learn sometime what a limp ding-dong on a moron looks like.

Mr. Moron should have been in the Guinness Book of World Records because he never, ever freaking stopped masturbating. Sitting on his bed. Next to the open door.

O.K. I'm exaggerating. He probably slept about two hours at night and he wasn't masturbating then. At least I don't think he was.

Every single person who walked down that hall got to see Mr. Moron yanking his wanky. And not just staff members. Every visitor who came to see a dying or sick loved one was treated to the sight of Mr. Moron dating five-fingered Sally.  Gentlemen, please tell me: If you masturbated 20 hours/day or so, then wouldn't your hand get tired?

Mr. Moron's hand was on the move all the time. Moron couldn't walk, couldn't get himself into his wheelchair alone so he could go to the bathroom, but he had the strongest right hand on Earth. God, he was amazing.

But let's finish up this post with something nicer. Before I worked in a nursing home, I volunteered in one. There was a man and a woman, probably in their 30s, and they had some physical disabilities. They might have been a bit mentally challenged too.

But they found each other and were so happy together. They sat in their wheelchairs in his room or her room, talking and holding hands and once, I saw them kissing. It was really pretty sweet. Living in a nursing home is not exactly fun, and I'm glad they could comfort one another.
I hope that, in their own way, they lived happily ever after.

Infinities of love,
Lola 

WHO? MONDAY

Gentle Readers . . .  and Maxwell,

Today and only today, and perhaps some other time in the future, What? Monday becomes Who? Monday because the question is

Who is your hero and/or heroine? 

This is a toughie for me because I can name so many people.

I'll start with my mom and dad because I miss them so much. The older I get, the more I miss them.

Next, Favorite Young Man and Someone I Love.

Little Chick

Doris Kearns Goodwin (Oh how I wish I could be Doris but I don't think I could stand to look at her husband -- I was going to post a current photo of him but I couldn't find one and it's just as well because it might frighten those of you who are a bit sensitive. Dick Goodwin looks kind of like somebody dressed in a bad gorilla suit for Halloween, but a gorilla would be more attractive than Dick Goodwin.)

Bob Dole

Ronald and Nancy Reagan

Gerry and Betty Ford

Barack and Michelle Obama

Anne Tyler 

Pat Conroy


Maya Angelou

Sylvia Plath, but she should not have killed herself 

Grammarians

I'll stop there, but I'm sure I could come up with a lot more names because although lots of people in this world are jerks, I think even more people are great.

Now, tell us please,

Who is your hero and/or heroine?

Infinities of love,

Lola   

P.S. Heroine is not the same as heroin. We're not talkin' smack here. 

CELEBRITY ENCOUNTERS

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I heard an interesting story last year from a lovely young lady named Sarah. Sarah's story took place about 16 years ago when she was at home, pregnant, and her husband called her from the Sears where he worked, whispering, Come down here right away. Bill Murray is in the paint department.

By the time Sarah arrived, a few people had gathered to take a look at Bill Murray, but it wasn't a crowd. Sarah approached and politely asked, Mr. Murray, will you please let me have my picture taken with you and will you autograph it for my baby?


Sarah said Bill Murray launched into a tirade about how he wasn't there to be funny and entertain people. He just wanted to look at paint with his friends so go away and leave him alone. But it went on a lot longer than that. In fact, it went on so long that if he had simply agreed to the photo and the autograph, it all would have been over and done with in less time than his tantrum required.

Sarah said, To this day I can't stand Bill Murray and I have never and will never spend a singly penny to see one of his movies.

On the other hand, Sarah had quite a love for Sonny Bono, who, of course, was not talented in the way Bill Murray is, but he had something better going for him: He was kind to Sarah.

When Sarah was a senior in high school, her class had their senior prom at Sonny Bono's restaurant. Sarah and a friend arrived to decorate before the prom and Sonny Bono came out to greet the girls personally. I believe he was the mayor of Palm Springs at the time. Mr. Bono also showed the girls to his private office and bathroom, where he said they could change into their prom dresses after they finished decorating. Then he apologized for leaving, but said he had to take care of some city business.

Sarah couldn't say enough good things about Sonny Bono and how kind and polite he was. Sonny Bono might have seemed like kind of a doofus, but as Cher said in her eulogy when Sonny died, How can you be the butt of the joke when you created the joke?

I certainly do not approve of the way the paparazzi stalk some celebrities, chasing them, and even running them off the road. But these people who are famous are usually famous because they want it. They want the exposure and the money and the fame. So they have to take what comes with it. Bill Murray should have had his picture taken with Sarah and then signed the photo. It would have meant so much to her, and I suspect he could have spared two - three minutes out of his paint perusing time. Case closed.

But I'm wondering, even though this is not What? Monday, have you encountered any celebrities? If so, how did they treat you?

My ex-husband travels a great deal because of his work, and he seems to run into (not literally) celebrities all the time. He was in New York and happened to be in the right place at the right time because he saw Dan Akroyd, Mary Tyler Moore, and many other big deals arrive at NBC for the filming of Saturday Night Live's 25th Anniversary Special. He sat down for breakfast once in a restaurant and noticed that Magic Johnson and Alex English were at the next table. Walking through the lobby at the Disneyland hotel, he spotted Sigourney Weaver. His celeb encounter list is too long for me to remember everyone.

My only real celebrity encounter was with writer Pat Conroy (shhhh! The affair continues. We read poetry to each other. What a man.)

Infinities of love,

Lola

THE PICKLE HATERS

Gentle Readers,

In restaurants, I say to the server, Please don't put a pickle on my plate. Occasionally, I even say, I'm the President of the Pickle-Hating Society.

That's right: No pickles will pass these lips, Papa.

My sisters and I will  not eat pickles, and no, that's not a euphemism for penis.

Blow jobs: Fine.

Pickles: Not fine.

 You see, our mother did a terrible thing to us when we were growing up: She made pickles. It was childhood pickle abuse.

That's because the stench from the pickle cooking made us all sick. I almost fainted once because of that odor and she could not figure out what might be wrong with me. But, we weren't allowed to say OH MAN THOSE PICKLES STINK! Because she would say, Oh, shut the hell up! They do not.

But I don't remember HER ever eating a pickle either. I think my dead brother ate them.

Ate the pickles. Died young.

Coincidence? I think not.

Infinities of love,

Lola

P.S. My sister has taken a turn for the better! She shakes and nods her head to answer questions and can move her fingers. Probably puts up the middle finger most of the time. Thank you all so much for your concern, your good wishes, and your prayers. I'll let you know when I hear about more progress.

EENIE MEENIE MINIE MO

Gentle Readers,

When I was in second grade in Haven, Kansas -- a town so small it had no traffic lights -- each day when we ran out to recess, Sharon and Ricky took off for the playground, shouting, Eenie Meenie Minie Mo, Catch a tiger by the toe . . . .

Except they didn't say tiger. Although I had never seen a black person face to face, I knew Sharon and Ricky were bad.

One day after recess, I raised my hand and said, Mrs. Snyder, Sharon and Ricky say nigger out on the playground.

Sharon raised her hand and countered with, Lola is a tattle tale.

Mrs. Snyder said, Yes. Lola is a tattle tale.

What? I was only in second grade but I already had a sense of justice. If someone is doing something really wrong, then aren't you supposed to tell an adult?

Sharon and Ricky kept on meenie, minie, moing every day on the playground.

Fast forward a few months and my dad was now stationed in Topeka, Kansas. Soon after we arrived we drove down the main drag in downtown Topeka.

It was the first time I saw real, live black people. And I saw that they were, indeed, people. Just people. Walking along, smiling and talking and laughing.

But my mom said, Look at the niggers walking up the street in their short pants.

I felt sick and embarrassed. This word was wrong and bad, but there was no adult to tell except the offender, and besides, I'd already been labeled tattle tale.

I am a bit ashamed to tell you this story about my mother, but fortunately, she changed for the better.

After I married and my parents moved into a townhouse community with a pool, my children and  I visited during the summer. A black woman was sitting in the shade, watching her grandsons play. When we arrived, she called them out of the pool.

After they left, my mom said, They're the only black people who live here and they always get the kids out of the pool when white people get in. I wish they wouldn't. I don't think anyone would be crude enough to say anything.

It was nice to hear that evidence of my mother's change, but perhaps it never occurred to hear that the grandmother did not get her grandsons out of the pool to avoid offending her white neighbors.

Maybe she didn't want her grandsons in a pool contaminated by white people.

Infinities of love,

Lola

AWARDS FRIDAY

Gentle Readers,

Will you just look at what Plain Jane (except I know there's nothing plain about her) at The Evil Wife < http://theevilwife.blogspot.com/2011/09/horrible-bosses.html> (except I know there's nothing evil about her) gave to me? I love surprises and I love awards and I love Plain Jane. If you don't follow her yet, then click on the link and get crackin'.

I'm going to dispense with a description of what I'm wearing to this awards show because I don't want poor Coffeypot to spend the rest of the day engaged in hand to gland combat. Suffice it to say: designer dress, diamonds, high heels, the works.

This award is the 7x7 Link Award. The recipient chooses seven other bloggers on whom to bestow the award and selects, from her own blog posts, the best posts that fit certain categories.

I love giving presents, so first, I'm passing on the award.

1. http://scrapsofliteracy.blogspot.com/2011/10/every-book-has-two-authors.html a.k.a. Scraps of Literacy by the Writer Currently Known as Rory. How can I not adore Rory? He loves books so much. And dogs. He has a dog named Kitty. The minutiae of his life presented in his posts soothes me.
2. http://edpilolla.blogspot.com/  a.k.a. Ed Pilolla at Ed Pilolla. This man's writing lights my fire. He's so freaking good. And he understand that my miniature copy of The Great Gatsby that can't be read is funny.
3. http://thestephanieconnection.blogspot.com/2011/10/wimpy.html  a.k.a. Connecting with Stephanie D by Stephanie. Stephanie is such a sweetie. If you don't love her, then I think something is wrong with you.
4. http://macpossum.blogspot.com/2011/10/jay-walking-into-light.html  a.k.a. Possum by Possum. The post to which I've provided a link begins with her writing that she was strolling through words. Possum, that is so cool. I love words but it never occurred to me to say I strolled through them. You have an original and creative mind.
5. http://rhymetime24.blogspot.com/2011/10/warning-second-part-might-not-be-for.html  a.k.a. It's Rhyme Time by Pat Hatt. This guy is a trip. He is so clever and funny.
6. http://marionsmeepings.blogspot.com/2011/10/quick-update.html  a.k.a. Marion's Meepings by Paxford. What a lovely person. Supporter of troops. Always sending off care packages. And she's going to have a drawing (yes, I'm entered in it) for an Australian Army Medallion that I covet. 
7. http://shiningpearlsofsomething.blogspot.com/2011/10/tea-bittersweet-as-expected.html  a.k.a. Shining Pearls of Something by Suz. This lady is intelligent and she thinks before she writes. I learn from her.

Now, on to the posts. I hope I can get my links to work. 

1. Most Beautiful  Yoko Ogawa (Housekeeper + Professor) = Elegance  This post is my all-time favorite. It's really a message to Someone I Love.
2. Most Helpful   This is the post called My Husband Collection to which I attempted to provide a link a few days ago. I think it's helpful because it lets women know they don't have to tolerate men if they don't want them. Just buy the husbands and then tell them to get lost when you tire of them.
3. Most Controversial   The United States v. Anthony didn't cause any controversy when I wrote it, but I'm calling it most controversial because the whole "Casey The Dumb Shit Idiot Anthony" outcome is controversial. The post represents my immediate response to the verdict. 
4. Most Surprisingly Successful  MR. ROGERS DID NOT WEAR A SWEATER TO COVER UP His Tats has become one of my most popular posts and it continues to get hits regularly. I see the search term "Why Did Mr. Rogers Wear A Sweater" on my stats page all the time.
5. Most Underrated   Farewell J.D. didn't get much attention and I think it's the funniest post I've ever written. Maybe other people don't see it the same way I do.
6. Most Pride Worthy  http://dumpedfirstwife.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-kathy.html My Kathy is pretty much a love letter to my bestest bud. She cried when she saw this and I don't think it was because she thought it was badly written. My Kathy really is Superwoman.

 And this is the link to my post about meeting Pat Conroy that didn't work when I tried to post it the same day as the link to My Husband Collection. Today Blogger and I seem to be on a link streak, so I hope these all work.

Thank you so much Plain Jane for making me take this trip down Memory Lane.

Plain Jane and I want to go into business together so we can earn money for a trip to England. She suggested that our business could be closet organizing and that's fine with me because I am one damn fine closet organizer, but we have a little problem. We don't even live in the same state.

So if you'd like to make a donation to The Plain Jane and Lola Do England fund, please let me know. We want to go to Yorkshire to see where the Brontes lived. We shall wander the moors, hand in hand. I'm not sure yet which of us will be Cathy and which will be Heathcliff, but we'll work it out.

I suspect we'll want to visit a few other places too.

Oh Cathy! Oh Heathcliff?

Infinities of love and awards,

Lola

THE PERP WALK

Gentle Readers,

I've never actually had to perform the perp walk, but I thought it made for a more interesting post title than THE DEPRESSION WALK.

I've been doing the depression walk on and off since I got fired. It consists of barely moving my feet while my head hangs forward and my shoulders droop. Thank God I live in such a small house now. When I did the depression walk in my big house, sometimes I'd have to stop and just lie down on the floor because making it from one room to the next was too much.

As you may have guessed, I've had no luck finding another job. It took me 18 months to get the last one. I was teaching. At a failing school. And by that, I mean their grade from the state was a big fat F.

I kinda doubt I'll get another teaching job. I think I've been blackballed because I was a whistle blower, but I don't know what difference my whistle blowing made because nobody did anything about it. I guess the problem is that now I'm a known whistle blower and so oh Dear God I might do it again.

I think all states now have standardized tests students have to take as a way of judging the school. And the schools have to be judged because of No Child Left Behind. I certainly don't want children left behind, but oy vey, what I saw at that school. Those children were already so far behind I don't know how they could ever recover.

It's really a shame that so much money is spent on the tests and practice tests and materials to prepare for the tests instead of putting the money to work for the kids. Smaller class sizes and more individualized instruction seem like a couple of good ideas to me.

But anyhoo, back to the whistle blowing. The afternoon that I started working with my students, they had taken the state writing test that morning. Some of them told me that the teacher who gave them the test wrote all or part of their essays for them. They wouldn't tell me who the teacher was. One said, I ain't no snitch.

So at the end of the school day, of course I reported what the students had told me. The folks to whom I reported wanted names. I promised to investigate. I think it was my downfall. I know those kids would have talked. They would have told me more as soon as they got to know me.

So, man, I was out the door for no reason in less than a week. You see, here in the hinterlands, teachers can be fired for no reason during the first three months of employment.

I think the administration didn't want to know who cheated. I've read quite a few articles about cheating on the state-mandated tests. They all say it's to the schools' advantage to cheat, and of course it is. They want the money from the state that the school receives for improving. The teachers want the merit pay they get because their students have shown improvement.

They want higher scores.

Especially if the school's grade is F.

I reported all this to the teachers' union and to the appropriate people at the schools' central office. I even fired off a letter to the Superintendent of Schools.

Guess what?

Nobody cares. There was no investigation. No one asked me a single question.

The only response I received was an angry email from the principal who fired me telling me if I wanted to talk about the school I should contact him. Why in the hell would I get in touch with the guy who fired me? We're not exactly on a send each other Christmas cards basis.

The saddest thing about all this is not that I lost my job, although it brings out the depression walk in me.

The saddest thing is that taking the test for the student is tantamount to saying, You're not good enough. You can't do it, and rather than let you do what you are capable of, I will teach you to be helpless.

We should all be doing the depression walk over that.

Infinities of love,

Lola

THE REAL STORY OF THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

Gentle Readers,

Quite recently, as you already know if you are in the know about my posts, I posted my Christmas wish list to The Twelve Days of Christmas. Now I'd like to tell you about the real Twelve Days of Christmas, which I had the great pleasure of learning about at a church service very early in 2010, which was appropriate because the actual twelfth day is early in January.

When Christmas Day arrives in all its glory, Advent ends. During Advent -- the four Sundays prior to Christmas -- we prepare for the coming of the Son of God. Beginning on Christmas, we are in the Christmas season, which lasts twelve days and ends the day before Epiphany. Epiphany is January 6th and is the celebration of the arrival of the Wise Men bringing gifts to Jesus.

We don't usually think of The Twelve Days of Christmas, the song, as part of the Christian tradition, but in truth, it is. Immediately, our "true love" brings us a gift. Our true love is God. He gives us everything, and best of all, on Christmas, he gives us His Son. The first gift is "a partridge in a pear tree," which refers to Jesus and the cross. A mother partridge lures enemies and predators away from her nest of defenseless chicks and will even pretend to be wounded to get predators to come after her. Of course, Jesus didn't just pretend to be wounded when He was on the cross. The pear tree symbolizes the cross, which St. Paul describes as a tree in Galatians.

Two Turtle Doves: Mary and Joseph had to sacrifice two doves at the Temple when Jesus was forty days old. Additionally, we have two testaments, the Old and the New. This second gift reminds us of God's Word given to us.

Three French Hens: The first meaning of the three hens is three divine gifts of the Holy Spirit - faith, hope, and love. The second meaning is that of the three valuable gifts given to Jesus because apparently French hens were pricey.

Four Calling Birds: They represent the four Gospels that proclaim the saving message -- Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. They call out to us God's salvation through Jesus our Savior.

Five Gold Rings: These unbroken circles represent the never-ending love we receive from God, just as a wedding ring should proclaim never-ending love. Why five rings? Because of the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Bible, written by Moses.

Six Geese-a-laying: What are the geese a-laying? Eggs, of course, so they are bringing forth life. This reminds us of God as our life giver.

Seven Swans-a-swimming: Even more beautiful than swans are the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit to us -- prophesying, serving, teaching, encouraging, contributing to the needs of others, leadership, showing mercy.

Eight maids-a-milking: Milk maids are humble serving girls, yet they do important work by providing the family with nourishment. There are eight maids because of the eight Beatitudes given us in the Sermon on the Mount.

Nine Ladies Dancing: Great dancing requires learning and practice, and it is an art form. The Holy Spirit bestows on his trusting ones the nine-fold fruit of the Spirit that shows itself in our lives, and we must learn and practice these fruits -- love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Ten Lords-a-leaping: Lords represent the law of the land; leaping requires great effort. So, the ten Lords represent the Ten Commandments. The Commandments require discipline and effort.

Eleven Pipers Piping: Eleven original apostles remained after Judas had removed himself in unbelief. Jesus sent out the eleven to preach, or in other words, to pipe out loud.

Twelve Drummers Drumming: It's the last day of the Christmas season and God sends us loud drummers. What's the noise all about? Well, drummers set the pace with a firm and steady proclamation of the beat, keeping the peace and holding the group together. Additionally, twelve fundamental teachings of Christianity in the Apostles Creed proclaim how God gives of Himself to save us -- the person of God the Father; the person of Jesus Christ, eternal Son of the Father; who was conceived and born; who suffered, was crucified, died, and was buried; who descended into hell and arose; who ascended to heaven and sits at the right hand of the Father; who will return to judge the world and the universe as we know it; the person of the Holy Spirit; the holy Christian Church; the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of our bodies on the last day; and Everlasting Life.

So there you have it. You can think of The Twelve Days of Christmas as a teaching song. How do we learn quickly? Through songs, like singing the alphabet. And of course the jingles sung on commercials can stick, sometimes maddeningly, in our minds. Each day of Christmas gives us some aspect of Christianity to remember and learn more about.

Christmas Bells are ringing!

Infinities of love,

Lola